John MacNab by John Buchan

about Corrie Gall?’ asked Macpherson fiercely. ‘Ye canna post men on Carnmore – they will have to keep moving; it is that awful broken ground.’ ‘Well, there’s you and me and James,’ said Alan, ‘and there’s Himself ‘And that’s the lot of us, and every man wanted,’ said Macpherson. ‘It’s what I was always saying – ye will need every man for Carnmore, and must let Carnbeg alone, or ye can watch Carnbeg and not go near Carnmore. We’re far ower few.’ ‘I wass thinking,’ said James Fraser, ‘that the youngest leddy might be watching Carnbeg.’ ‘Aye, James’ – this satirically from Macpherson - ‘and how would the young leddy be keeping a wild man from killing a stag and getting him away?’ ‘ ‘Deed, I don’t ken,’ said the puzzled James, ‘without she took a gun with her and had a shot at him.’
    Benjie drove quietly to Inverlarrig for his supply of fish, and did not return to his head-quarters in the Wood of Larrigmore till nearly seven o’clock. At eight, having cooked and eaten his supper, he made a simple toilet, which consisted in washing the fish-scales and the stains of peat from his hands, holding his head in the river, parting his damp hair with a broken comb, and putting over his shoulders a waterproof cape, which had dropped from some passing conveyance and had been found by him on the road. Thus accoutred, he crossed the river and by devious paths ascended to Crask.
    He ensconced himself in the stable, where he was greeted sourly by the Bluidy Mackenzie, who was tied up in one of the stalls. There he occupied himself in whistling strathspeys and stuffing a foul clay pipe with the stump of a cigar which he had picked up in the yard. Benjie smoked not for pleasure, but from a sense of duty, and a few whiffs were all he could manage with comfort. The gloaming had fallen before he heard his name called, and Wattie Iithgow appeared. ‘Ye’re there, ye monkey? The gentlemen are askin’ for ye. Quick and follow me. They’re in an awfu’ ill key the nicht and maunna be keepit waitin’.’
    There certainly seemed trouble in the smoking-room when Benjie was ushered in. Lamancha was standing on the hearthrug with a letter crumpled in his hand, and Sir Archie, waving a missive, was excitedly confronting him. The other two sat in arm-chairs with an air of protest and dejection.
    â€˜I forgot all about the infernal thing till I got Montgomery’s letter. The 4th of September! Hang it, my assault on old Clay-body is timed to start on the 5th. How on earth can I get to Muirtown and back and deliver a speech, and be ready for the 5th? Besides, it betrays my presence in this part of the world. It simply can’t be done ... and yet I don’t know how on earth to get out of it? Apparently the thing was arranged months ago.’
    â€˜You’re for it all right, my son,’ cried Sir Archie, ‘and so am I. Here’s the beastly announcement. “A Great Conservative Meeting will be held in the Town Hall, Muirtown, on Thursday, September 4th, to be addressed by the Right Hon. the Earl of Lamancha, M.P., His Majesty’s Secretary of State for the Dominions. The chair will be taken at 3 p.m. by His Grace the Duke of Angus, K. G. Among the speakers will be Colonel Wavertree, M.P., the Hon. W.J. Murdoch, Ex-Premier of New Caledonia, and Captain Sir Archibald Roylance, D.S.O., prospective Conservative candidate for Wester Ross.” Oh, will he? Not by a long chalk! Catch me going to such a fiasco, with Charles hidin’ here and the show left to the tender mercies of two rotten bad speakers and a prosy chairman.’
    â€˜Did you forget about it too?’ Leithen asked.
    â€˜ ‘Course I did,’ said Archie wildly. ‘How could I think of anything with you fellows turnin’ my house into a den of thieves? I forgot about